


Rebirth of Slick

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hot out.  Clark gets bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth of Slick

Clark's less sensitive to the heat than a lot of people. Pete, for  
whatever reason, pretty much collapses once the mercury hits ninety,  
and Chloe's camping next to her air conditioner at home and won't  
move. On the other hand, Clark's apparently hit by it a lot harder  
than, say, his parents, who both insist on working like it's still a  
comfortable seventy-something degrees, and insist he does too. Who  
ignore him when he complains, tell him to grin and bear it, that it  
won't kill him. And it's not even that he doesn't *like* the sun.  
It's just the heat's so oppressive, and even if it doesn't make him  
feel as terrible as lots of people, he can still *feel* it, all  
over.

It's a new adventure in whining, and sometime in the middle of the  
second day of soaking, static oven-hotness, his parents give in and  
accept that Clark's going to sleep in the basement whenever he  
doesn't have chores, and he'll be moving around at night when it's  
actually cool enough to do things.

Summer, he read somewhere, is all about being nocturnal. He's sure  
he read that. No school tomorrow, his morning and evening chores  
still get done, and this way he has something like an excuse for  
being the only person in a hundred miles without a sunburn.

There are good things. There's a huge moon this week, bright enough  
that he thinks he'd be able to see even without the eagle-eyes. Dark  
enough that if he wants to run, full out, just for the feel of it,  
he won't be spotted. If he wants to jump for a tree branch twenty or  
thirty feet up, and overshoots, there's just him to notice.

It's still hot, but it's dark, and the freedom's almost enough.

Though eventually it's ... not lonely, quite, because there are  
other people around, and he's fairly sure Pete's doing the daysleep  
thing too, but getting on for boring. Nothing's open, most people  
are asleep or trying to be. He knows Lana's not, but she's trying hard.

She wakes up, walks around the house, stretches at her window without

ever looking at the ground, and goes back to bed. Sometimes she gets

up and peels her shirt off, leans into the window's draft,  
and she has the kind of real, soft, tiny girl-breasts that'll give  
him masturbation material for the next ten years of his life, and  
probably for a while after that, when it starts being disturbing  
instead of just needy.

It's miles too far into stalker-behaviour to hang out under her  
window all night, though, so eventually he walks. Roads for a bit,  
fields after that. Overland through crops towards a somewhere that  
turns out to be Lex's. Over the gates, over the lawns. Clark stops  
for a minute on the frozen garden-pond and actually knees and  
presses his face to the ice. This wonderful cold that lets him  
forget the person who's trapped at its centre.

He takes his shoes off, after, and walks through the grass barefoot.  
It's cooling off a bit, enough that it's easing out of 'agonizing'  
and into 'comfortable'. The Luthor Manor's windows are all open,  
which kicks Clark into the realization that the house isn't air  
conditioned. He wonders about that. He knows the place is chilly in  
the winter, but not icy, so there's definitely some sort of semi-  
modern heating system involved, and the building's been wired for  
electricity, so it can't be a need for historical integrity keeping  
Lex living in a big, stone oven.

There are French doors open, farther along. Billowy white curtains  
blowing in whenever the air moves.

Alright, then, it's all about the romance. Heir to old money empire  
in the steamy, dark family estate in the heat of summer. He wonders  
if the gardeners have started planting magnolias yet. If he had  
Chloe's camera he'd have blackmail material forever.

Coming in through the open doors is going on the list of entirely  
too pretentious things Clark's done in his life. Some sort of Tom  
Cruise imitation going on, echoes of various Night of the Vampire  
movies and all of Chloe's secret stash of Anne Rice novels. He was  
expecting some kind of studio, or a back entrance that'd let the air  
move through the house, but it's neither. First floor, without the  
carnival velvet that coats everything upstairs upstairs. Not enough  
furniture, either. Most of what's there has sheets over it.  Only  
the bed's uncovered.

Lex is on the bed, face down, sprawled. Sweat in the hollows of his  
back. Wearing a ... skirt. Bare legs, bare top, skirt around his  
hips, some kind of loose cotton thing. Comfortable-looking, but also  
eerily drag-show-ish.

Clark didn't think he was making noise, but Lex twists, suddenly,  
and sits up on one hip. Snaps, "Who's there?"

Clark puts his hands up. "Just me. Sorry."

Lex's pupils are huge in the dark, and it takes Clark a second to  
realize that the question wasn't addressed to him, not really. He  
can still remember occasional sleepovers when he was a kid enough to  
know that people are capable of saying all sorts of weird things  
with their eyes wide open and entirely still asleep.

If Lex was jumpy before, though, he's just about convulsive now.    
"What?" Quick scramble while he turns around to look properly.  
"Clark. Jesus." One more big-eyed second before Lex collapses back  
onto the mostly-stripped bed. "What are you doing here?"

"I was walking and you, um, left the doors open. I didn't realize  
you were sleeping in here." He grins. "Gotta wonder about your  
vampire fantasies, though. I think you're a couple of hundred miles  
north of where you want to be for that."

Lex snorts, still staring at the ceiling.. "This place has no air  
conditioning. I haven't been this hot since I came back from  
Sumatra. Good coffee, bad climate. What can I do for you?"

Clark finds a chair. There's a row of them, back against the  
opposite wall, all covered in sheets. Hauls it over close to the bed  
and sits down. "I was bored."

"Clark." Little lift in the middle of his name that makes it  
somewhere between a tease and a question.

"I was *bored*. It's dark and it's hot and. Lex, you're wearing a  
skirt. *Why?*"

Lex sits up. Stands up. Stretches, then snaps down to grab at his  
skirt before it falls off completely. Not exactly a skirt, more like  
a very thin towel with no terry cloth and some interesting patterns  
going on. "It's a sarong. It's perfectly normal in a lot of places."

"None of which are Smallville."

"Since this one came back with me from Sumatra... no. Not in  
Smallville. But I wasn't planning on the local populace dropping in  
to watch me sleep."

"Sorry." Though he's really not. Lex is awake, which means that  
boredom can wander off for a while. He wonders what Lex might think  
is worth doing all night.

"I'm not. God I wish I wasn't here." Lex stretches again, arms over  
his head. "No, actually I just wish I wasn't this hot. Maybe if I  
was naked."

"Yeah, but you still have company."

"If you went away, I wouldn't have that problem."

Which is. A point, actually. "You want me to go away?"

"No. I'm not sleeping, apparently, and I'm not going to. I'd take  
off for a week, but the plant's keeping me too busy." He sighs. "If  
I can't sleep, I'm going to swim. Coming?"

Lex walks off, into the house. Even in the dark, he's disturbingly  
close to being naked. The cloth around his hips is just barely  
there, though it's maybe not so much the bare skin as the sweat and  
the sleep-smell and the way Clark really did wake Lex up. Deeper in  
the house, it's past hot and into miserable; it'll take days to cool  
the place off after the heat breaks. Clark can breeze through it,  
more or less, but Lex hunches just that extra bit that says he'd be  
happier if he were just about anywhere else.

More doors open, more halls. Carpets and then stone floors. Humid,  
dark room that they come to finally, cooler. Water reflections on  
the ceiling. There's some kind of climate control system in here, at  
least.

While Clark's wondering why there isn't one anywhere else, Lex drops  
the sarong and dives.

Night swimming. It sounds really, really good. None of the  
mosquitoes outside, who tickle him all over even if they can't  
manage to bite. Better with company than doing it alone. He thinks  
he's been invited, and if not, he seems to be making his own  
invitations tonight. Strips off his t-shirt and shorts and drops  
straight in off the side.

Water. It's bluish, it's cooler. Clark sees colours in the dark the  
way nobody else does, and he can almost understand the why of it.  
Something about rods and cones that they got to learn about in  
science class, stuff he learned for the test and then forgot.

Clark turns somersaults in the water, brushes his hands along the  
bottom. He comes up for air, eventually, just for a second, and  
dives again. There are ripples somewhere up above him, Lex swimming.  
Clark rolls onto his back, gets the weird, weird view of a human  
body in mid-stroke, and just for a second eye-contact with Lex  
through the water, before it occurs to him that anybody else would  
have come up by now.

So. Up. He makes a show of gasping when he surfaces, and treads  
water for a minute until he thinks he should be steady. Then for a  
while just so he can watch the water ripples reflecting on the  
ceiling. Lex keeps sliding through the water around him, never quite  
in reach. Until he slides in dolphin-fast and drags a hand across  
Clark's ribs before disappearing.

"Gah! Lex!" He thrashes, twists around, and can't see anything.  
Which one of them is supposed to be the eerie one? Looks again and  
spots Lex, out of the pool and lying on his stomach, watching Clark  
and grinning.

Clark dives to the bottom and kicks his way to the side, rises  
straight up under Lex's nose. "If you're going to grope me when I'm  
not looking..."

Lex kisses him. Warm and wet and still sleep-tasting, locked onto  
Clark and hanging over the pool's edge to do it.

Clark eventually notices that he's gripping the pool's edge to keep  
from sinking. Most of him's shouting about mouth contact and SEX and  
warm water and the fairly long list of things his body wants to  
happen next. Nothing useful. Though eventually Lex breaks the kiss  
and arches back, working tension out of his neck.  It gives Clark  
time to scramble out of the water. It leaves him perched on the  
edge, probably wilder-eyed than he'd like, but not in danger of  
drowning Lex, either.

"Remind me which one of us is supposed to be the predator?"

Lex grins at him. "I don't remember you claiming you were."

"You're the one playing vampire victim."

"I was *asleep*. In a perfectly normal way in a house that's too  
hot. In my *own* house. Then you woke me up. Told me to play with  
you."

"I didn't say that."

"You said you were bored."

"I'm not anymore."

"Good." Lex slides over beside him and sits up, cross-legged.  
Breathes on Clark's skin for a few seconds before kissing the side  
of his neck.

"Lex..."

"You can feel free to leave."

The rest of the world, in the dark, all alone, is very, very boring.  
"I'm cold."

Lex stares at him. "It's not cold in here."

"Compared with the rest of the house..."

"Fine." Lex stands. He isn't hard, but he's interested. Cock-to-eye  
with Clark, currently. He offers down a hand. "Come on."

He kisses Clark again in the hall, against the wood panelling. Again  
with Clark's head pressed to one of the paintings in a way that'll  
probably ruin it. Water's still dripping out of his hair. Lex's  
tongue in his mouth is this wonderful, sexy, fascinting thing that  
makes him grateful that he's currently in the middle of his 'day'  
instead of out past curfew.

And the bedroom that isn't Lex's, he doesn't think, is still there,  
still hot, still full of sheets and melodramatic curtains and open  
doors. There were blankets, he notices, but they've all been very  
deliberately thrown on the floor. Just sheets and pillows, and even  
the pillows are off to one side.

He thinks about the air flow, about the sweat already building again  
on his body and Lex's.

"Think we can move the bed?"

Lex *looks* at him. "I wasn't really planning on rearranging  
furniture, Clark."

"Yeah, but I think we could catch more of the draft if we could move  
this a couple of feet. That's all, I swear. Look." He hooks his  
fingers over the foot of the bed and tugs experimentally. He thinks  
he can move it without being obvious, and he might as well. The bed  
scrapes across the floor, but when he's done, the moving air is  
hitting it. Clark turns his face into the draft and closes his eyes.

Behind him, Lex wraps an arm around his waist and leans in. Mouths  
at one shoulder blade.  Gropes him.

"Jesus."

Lex's mouth twists against his skin. "Thank you."

There's enough of a push against his back that Clark gets he's  
supposed to bend over. Possibly a disturbing thought since he's not  
quite sure he's ready to be bent over pieces of furniture, but when  
he shifts his weight, he finds himself in more of a sprawl, with Lex  
somwhere between on top of and beside him. More wrestling to get  
them both flat, and then. Yes, more kissing. Slow, careful, not  
quite as demanding as before. Lex is probably really tired, just too  
restless to actually settle down and sleep. He's hard now. Slick,  
very soft skin keeps rubbing against Clark's hip, smelling like  
chlorine in a way that's going to change showering after gym forever  
and ever.

"I swear." Kiss. "To god. "Kiss. "This isn't why I." Kiss. "Came  
over."

"I know. I started it. Do you want me to stop?"

"I want you to tie me down."

Lex pushes up on his forearms and stares down at Clark. "I wouldn't  
have thought that was your thing."

"I wasn't serious. I just mean, you know, don't stop."

"Right." Kissing. He can feel Lex shiver every time a draft hits  
him, but he's soaking wet. Spicy-smelling in the heat, salty around  
the edges of his mouth. He tastes really good.

The knee between Clark's legs gives him something to rub against.  
Not quite enough, but. "*Lex*..."

Fingers. Better. Wrapped around his cock, this human *hand*,  
belonging to another person, the slick, very friendly body pressed  
against him, kissing him all over. Very good sex things going on,  
all goth imagery aside, and Lex in a spiked collar (where did *that*  
vision come from?) is one of those wonderful images that he suspects  
he'll find out more about later.

He could touch back. He's discovered that Lex likes having his ass  
rubbed, even just in an open-hands-on-skin way. He makes tiny noises  
when Clark does it, jerks against him.

"Feels really good."

"Love what you're doing, can you just..."

"No. I want you to fuck me."

That stops him. Lex is straddling him, naked, slick, grinning,  
suggesting that Clark. Wow. He's now officially at least ten steps  
up from the farmboy geekdom of his public identity, since he's  
considering carnal knowledge of billionaire's sons and not the cows  
who got involved in that very weird rumour last year.

Bad image. Clark shakes his head.

Lex kisses him. "Please."

"What? Oh, no. I mean, yes. Yes, that's a good idea."

Lex taps Clark's forehead. "There's something going on in here that  
I'm going to want to know about later."

"I'll give you anything not to ask."

"There isn't anything you can give me. Kiss me."

Lex hands him an embarrassing drug store sex product. Plastic tube,  
like hair gel but not so neon, cold on his fingers though it doesn't  
last long enough to get that chill as far as Lex's body. Naked body.  
Lying down beside him, grinning at him, pulling up a knee and  
offering and. This is where sex ed would have been useful.

Lex separates two fingers from the rest of Clark's half-balled fist.  
"You take these, you put them in me, with the lube on them. You  
enjoy the part where I yowl like a cat, you add more of this stuff,  
you do it again until it stops seeming like a good idea. Then you  
put most of the rest of it on you and figure out the rest. I'll  
help."

This is what rich people get to do. Lie on their backs against  
unreasonable numbers of pillows, ruining good sheets and rearranging  
the universes of Kansas-raised aliens, previously baseline  
heterosexual, with inexplicable reputations for bestiality. Lex  
tastes wonderful, salty and warm, and he stretches in whatever  
direction Clark asks for. Mouth against interesting skin while he  
works on sliding his fingers into a very tight, very hot part of  
Lex's body. And for a while Lex just talks to him. Tells him he's  
doing fine, strokes his head, bends to kiss him occasionally. He  
stiffens eventually in mid-kiss, though, and breathes, "Fuck yes,  
right there," and after that things are a lot less controlled.

While Clark's rearranging them and slicking himself he manages to  
find out that the stuff's mostly tasteless and just the tiniest bit  
sweet, like gelatin. That Lex's hips feel good against his stomach,  
and that they're apparently going to do this face to face, though he  
wouldn't have thought that would quite work. It does, though, once  
Lex gets his knees hooked around Clark's hips, and gives him a  
certain amount of help lining up.

Clark pushes. Cups Lex's skull in both hands and kisses him.

"Fffuck," against his mouth. He can feel Lex stretching around him,  
tight in spite of the slick mess he made. Hard and shaky for a  
minute. And then Lex just relaxes, grins at him and pulls him down.  
Whispers, "Fuck me," into Clark's ear, and shifts his hips in a way  
that make it a very good idea.

Clark gives a couple of experimental thrusts, then figures it out in  
a way that makes the entire universe blindingly obvious. Grinds  
himself in, bends to kiss Lex one more time, and starts. Pushing  
inside so *carefully*, sweaty and aching, loving this. Loving the  
hisses Lex makes whenever Clark pushes with a fraction of the force  
he actually wants to use. He could do this. Just let go and *take*  
Lex, bend him up double and fuck him til he screams, do it as hard  
as his body wants. But. His friend. Friendly, strange, interesting,  
beautiful *guy* who wakes up and play with him (in sticky, messy,  
probably illegal ways) when Clark asks.

And not that it's actually quite true, but he needs to say it. Hikes  
Lex's leg up around his hip, bends in close and says, "Love you."

Lex stills and clamps his hands around Clark's face. Pushes him back  
and looks at him for a minute. Then grins, like he more or less  
understood that, and says, "Thanks." He twists, then, like he's trying to sit up. "Give me a hand?"

"That depends. What are you trying to do, Lex?"

"I want to ride you."

It's a good idea. A wonderful, mind-blowing idea, all about sex and  
playing and the sheer *heat* tonight, and the fairly long list of  
ways in which Lex is gorgeous. Clark isn't sure how they're going to  
manage it, but they do eventually roll over, and once Lex is up,  
he's on it. Bucking and twisting and arching back, riding Clark like  
a parody of a cowboy, grinning hugely down at him.

And it's easier. He doesn't have to worry about the need to keep  
pushing harder and harder as long as he's not the one in control. It  
feels so good. Tight body still clamped around his, knees around his  
hips. Lex slides a hand down behind himself and catches Clark's  
balls in his hand and rolls them.

"Oh wow."

"You don't know the half of it. Oh god, Clark, can you twist like  
that again?"

He can. He can do anything Lex wants him to. He will concentrate  
very, very hard, and do all the things that Lex likes before he can  
even ask for them. Best lover in the *world*, he's sure, even if he  
does come first. He gets to feel Lex ride him through it, and then  
ride him after. Frantic at the end, almost too much for Clark to  
take while his cock is this sensitive. Lex groans and twists, shoots  
and collapses onto Clark's chest. Wraps his arms around Clark's neck  
and nuzzles bonelessly.

It goes on for a while. Even after Lex stills, it takes Clark a  
minute or two to realize Lex is asleep. Gone. It's fair, he  
supposes, but not quite what he wanted. Good, though. He slides out,  
shifts Lex off to one side, keeps an arm around him while he sleeps.  
Touches him sometimes, watching the way Lex's body reacts without a  
conscious Lex in control. Little arches and whimpers when Clark  
finds sensitive spots. This tiny hiss of pain when Clark fingers  
Lex's hole.

Eventually Clark dozes too. It's cooler, but he can feel the  
temperature rising again, and he'll have to be moving at dawn if he  
wants to get his chores done before it's miserably hot.

He has to crawl out from under Lex before morning. His clothes are  
on the floor by the pool, and he gets lost for a while looking for  
them. Ends up swimming again to get the worst of the mess off. His  
shoes are at Lex's door. Runners on his bare feet, home like the  
wind.

He's still thinking about it when his chores are done. He doesn't  
think his parents are even awake yet. The house is the kind of quiet  
it is before they wake up. He finds food in the fridge, eats  
standing up. Showers and changes into other clothes and throws  
yesterday's on the pile. None of them smell like anything in  
particular, and after a swim and a shower, he doesn't smell like  
Lex.

He should go to bed. He's been awake fourteen hours, and he's aching  
in ways that don't quite hurt, but almost do. In his head, at least.

When he goes to pull the blinds shut, he sees the car. Lex is parked  
just inside the yard, leaning against the door and staring at the  
house unfocussedly. Clark isn't sure that Lex can see him.

He goes downstairs anyway. Walks out into the yard barefoot and  
stands there with his hands in his pockets. Lex raises an eyebrow.  
"You left early."

"I had chores."

"Did you sleep?"

"I was going to sleep now."

"Come over."

"What?"

"Come over."

"You missed the part about sleeping all day?"

"I didn't miss it. Come over. It's daytime. I think you'll find  
people think it's fairly normal for you to visit in daylight hours."

"*Sleep*, Lex."

"Come over."

"Okay."

He doesn't have any shoes. No note, but the mess he left in the  
kitchen's enough to prove he was home. He gets in the car.

Dozes on the drive back. He's almost asleep by the time Lex stops,  
and he doesn't want to get up. It's not reasonable for him to lean  
on Lex while he's walking, but he does it anyway, the way he made  
his father carry him occasionally until he was twelve.

"Tired."

"Mmm. I'll be reading when you wake up."

He surfaces occasionally. At some point his shirt disappears, but  
it's hot enough he can't worry about it. He stirs without really  
coming back to consciousness and Lex slips grapes into his mouth.  
Because he's still there, sitting up on clean sheets, reading  
papers. All afternoon, just occasionally touching him, waiting for  
Clark to wake up.


End file.
